


A gift, full of affection

by Seisu



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Sex, Bottom Damian Wayne, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Maids, Master/Servant, Siblings With Benefits, Tim Drake Needs Love, Top Tim Drake, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seisu/pseuds/Seisu
Summary: The first thing Tim saw upon entering his bedroom was the thin rectangular wrapped-up gift on his bed. There was no signature on the outside but he knew who it was from —which was also the reason he felt a little disappointed.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 155





	A gift, full of affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gothvmitewhore](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gothvmitewhore).



> A birthday fic for gothvmitewhore. Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and has absolutely no construct upon the hell we call reality. In other words, don't use this as a substitute for sex ed.

A painting.

The first thing Tim saw upon entering his bedroom was the thin rectangular wrapped-up gift on his bed. There was no signature on the outside but he knew who it was from —which was also the reason he felt a little disappointed.

He shook his head, trying to lodge off the sourness latching onto him.

_At least Damian got me a gift._

It was a big step from when the baby bat tried to kill him, he reminded himself. If anyone told him he would be looking forward to Damian’s birthday gift three years ago, he would have told them it was time to get a mental evaluation.

Tim sighed softly. He was hoping that Damian would take the time to at least wish him a happy birthday in person instead of leaving the present in his room. He had barely seen the boy today.

Perhaps he was asking for too much.

 _It’s not like we’re in a real relationship._ The thought flashed in his mind before Tim squashed it. Why would he care if they were in a relationship or not?

They both got what they wanted from each other —sex and satisfaction. A clear-cut, no strings attached, business-only sexual affair.

Would Damian end it if he knew Tim was catching feeling?

 _High possibility_ , Tim smiled ruefully as he picked up the present. It was light in his hands and he could feel the foam board and the bubble wrap squishing slightly when he squeezed. Damian had wrapped it with care —Tim felt a bit guilty for feeling disappointed.

Tim took his time to unwrap the gift, storing the bright red ribbon away in his drawer and using scissors, briefly scolding himself for the obvious bias he’d shown towards Damian’s gift as compared to the others. Finally, the painting was revealed. Tim brushed his hands feather-lightly along the wooden frames —so obviously of high quality, how typical of Damian; He didn’t do things half-assed. 

The painting was another proof of the statement.

Tim recognised the location, the front of an outdoor cafe in the uptown part of Gotham that Tim frequented, Mugshot Cafe. He had brought Damian to the cafe twice before. Obviously, Damian had gone there without him, judging by the incredible details that had gone into the painting. Tim’s lips quirked up.

He silently admired the light and shadow play Damian had done just with a mix of bright colours -he himself had a little to no ability in art but he knew it took mastery of a different level to make such painting. 

In the centre of the painting, a frozen figure that Tim instantly recognised as himself walked out of the great glass-panned door, one hand holding up a steaming cup of coffee. He was wearing a shirt with the logo of his favourite band.

Tim blinked.

_The logo was... wrong?_

Damian was not the type of person to get details wrong. Which could only mean that... _it was not a mistake_. Tim grabbed his magnifying glass.

Under magnification, he could see what he thought as smudges were in fact a string of dots and lines.

_Morse code._

Tim quickly deciphered the code.

_C.H.E.R.R.Y_

_Damian had a safehouse down in Cherry street_ , Tim remembered. He stared down at the painting, coming to a decision.

First, he placed the painting back onto the desk. He would frame it later. 

Second, he went into Damian’s room and as he expected, Damian was not there although patrol had ended.

Third, he grabbed his motorbike keys.

It seemed he had another gift to unwrap.

* * *

Tim found the safehouse easily. There was another gift -a cube-shaped white box- on the doormat, heavier.

He pushed the door open -unlocked, Damian had correctly assumed that he came in civvies- to a dim living room. No Damian in sight, maybe in the bedroom?

Tim entered and locked the door with a _click!_ before trying to figure out in which room Damian was in.

A flash of emerald green on the floor caught his eyes.

He didn’t, right? Tim made a double-take at the haphazard trail of clothes on the floor. Huh.

Still carrying the box, Tim followed the trail to the second room in the right hall. The door was slightly ajar.

“Damian?” He pushed the door open, stepping in. The room was dark so he groped the wall for the switch.

Two hands wrapped around him from the back. A small warm body pressed against his. _When did he..?_

“You are late, Timothy.”

 _Timothy_. Tim could feel his lips curving without his permission. “Well, maybe if you’ve just told me to get here, I’d be faster.”

“Tt. You enjoy the thrill, I believe —Do not deny it.”

Well, he _was_ right. “I do. It’s a little short, though.”

“I will make a longer one next year.”

 _Next year_. Tim’s heart jumped a beat at the casual plan Damian made. _Could Damian hear that?_

He cleared his throat. “So I get three gifts tonight?” _Painting, whatever in this box and Damian_.

Damian hummed, the sound ticklish to him. “Four, actually. Consider the last one a souvenir of a sort.”

“Souvenir?”

“Open the box.”

Tim did as he was told. “A camera?”

It was a DSLR camera, a high-ended one Tim realized after a brief inspection. He turned it on. It was fully charged.

Damian released him, turning on the lights at the same time and Tim turned.

Contrary to his expectation, Damian was not naked. No, he gulped, the sight was even better than his expectation. It was straight out of his fantasies.

“Say something, Timothy.” 

Tim ogled Damian’s blushing face, a complement to the tiny french maid costume he was wearing. Never had he expected to see Damian decked in so many frills. His eyes fell to the scandalously short skirt. “Wow.”

The weight in his hands suddenly felt like gold. “I can..?”

“Granted that it was only for your eyes.” Damian peered up at him —Tim hoped Damian will keep being shorter— with big green eyes.

Tim quickly snapped a shot. He didn’t bother seeing how it came out —Damian was too photogenic for it to be less than perfect. Instead, he dragged the boy towards the bed, setting the camera aside as he pulled him onto his laps.

 _Fuck._ Damian looked so _good_.

“So beautiful.” His whisper was almost reverent as if he wanted to put the boy on an altar to worship him. 

Damian didn’t protest as Tim ran his hands over the satin material, sitting still and obedient. Tim marvelled at how committed Damian was to the role; he was even wearing a pair of thigh-high white stockings. He caressed the soft golden skin just under the elastic before drinking in the minute details of the costume: the short puffy black sleeves, the white ribbons of the apron tied around his tiny waist and even the white and black frilly maid headbands. He briefly wondered if Damian had made the costume himself.

“I still do not understand the appeal of this costume, Timothy.”

“And yet you wear it.”

“Yes,” Damian acquiesced. “It makes you _very_ happy, I suppose.”

He gave Tim a meaningful glance.

Tim refused to be ashamed. “I am.”

“I see.” A calculating look passed through his face. He plastered himself closer to Tim. “Then... does it make you happy if I call you _Master_?”

A groan escaped his mouth. 

“So it does.” Tim could feel Damian deliberately pressing down on his half-hard cock. “Master.”

“You’re a little shit.”

Damian smirked. “And you’re a pervert, Master.”

An instant later, the smug expression vanished, replaced by big wet eyes staring pitifully at him. His voice raised a few notes, sultry. “I’ve been naughty, Master. Will you punish me?”

Tim hurriedly snapped himself out of his trance. _Two can play this game_.

“Oh? What did you do?”

Damian fluttered his long thick lashes in what could otherwise be a sign of guilt. He shifted and squirmed on Tim's laps, no doubt trying to rile Tim up. “Master,” he said breathlessly, licking his lips (Tim’s eyes snapped to the little tongue). “I- you see, I touch myself without your permission.”

Tim put his arm around Damian’s waist. “How did you touch yourself?”

“I touch my cock earlier, Master.” 

“Pussy,” Tim corrected with a smirk. Damian hated it when he called it that.

A flash of irritation appeared on Damian’s face but he relented. “I touch my pussy, Master.”

Damian wasn’t finished. Eyes wide and innocent, he added, “I was thinking of _you_ , Master. Are you angry?”

Tim hummed, “Is that everything you did?”

Damian blinked. He shook his head slowly, “I stretched myself open for you, Master, but it felt so good and you weren’t here...”

Tim could see the quickly reddening tips of Damian’s ears. He prompted, “So? What did you do?”

Damian said in a small voice, “I came, Master. Are you going to punish me?”

Tim couldn’t help but to lean down and kiss him, coaxing moans out as he licked and bit. Simultaneously, he snaked his hand up the frilly skirt, massaging Damian’s cock roughly. It took a significantly short time before he felt the little cock tenting the underwear. He pulled back.

Damian gave a little whine.

Tim tutted. “Now, now, baby. You’ve been very very naughty, remember? I need to punish you.”

Damian pressed himself against Tim, “What should I do, Master?”

Tim squashed the idea of having Damian apologising; Damian would rather stop the roleplay altogether. “You cannot cum until I say so. Can you do this?”

After a moment of hesitation, Damian nodded.

“Good.” Tim stood up, tossing the boy onto the bed and taking off his clothes.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Damian moving to the same to his costumes. “Stop, keep them on.”

Damian looked at him doubtfully. “Everything?”

Tim nodded, taking off his brief. His restrained cock sprung to life. 

He crawled, hovering over Damian who had lied back on the pillow. “Like what you see?”

Damian’s eyes ran down, pausing. “Quite.” After a beat, he added, “Master.”

Tim smirked. He pressed a heated kiss against Damian’s lips, only pulling back when they were both panting. Damian would have looked stunning in anything but he had to admit, the maid look was his new favourite. 

It was a pity he could not suck marks onto his torso with the costume in the way.

_Well, you can’t have your cake and eat it too._

Tim directed his attention towards Damian’s skirt, or more importantly, what’s underneath it. Lifting it revealed a surprise; Damian was wearing cute white panties as opposed to his usual boxer.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Didn’t think you would wear panties, Damian.”

“Who do you take me for?”

Tim grinned, grabbing his new camera and crouching further down the bed. “Lift your skirt a bit, yes, like that.”

_Ka-chick!_

Tim continued his work: leaving marks on Damian’s thighs. It was funny to see Damian squirm when he was sitting down, no doubt the bite marks reminding him of their deeds. He was squirming now too, torso raised with his small hands in Tim’s hair. After a nice map of bite marks was charted on the sensitive tan skin, Tim pulled down the panties to his knees.

Tim stared before snapping another shot. He quickly set it to record and placed it on the nightstand.

“Just so you know, I’m only tolerating this because it is your birthday.” Damian glared at him, frustration clear as day on his face.

“All the more reason to enjoy it.”

Whatever Damian had to say in response was quickly aborted when Tim pushed his thighs to his torso and separated the mounds for access to his lubricated hole. Tim experimentally shoved two fingers in and as proof to Damian’s words, the fingers encountered no resistance.

“You really did stretch yourself open for me, hmm?”

“Why would I lie, Master?”

Tim didn’t answer, instead, he pulled out his fingers and lined up his cock with the hole. In one smooth thrust, he buried himself to the hilt into Damian’s heavenly tight warmth. Mentally, he counted to ten, grounding himself.

His voice was hoarse when spoke, throat dry. “How do you feel, baby?”

Damian was screwing his eyes shut. Upon the question, he opened his eyes, wet lashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “F-full. Master, you’re so big.”

Tim’s cock throbbed at the praise. He tried to count to ten again, but his self-restraints disappeared rather quickly. Grabbing Damian’s hips in a bruising hold, he pulled out halfway and slammed back.

Damian gasped.

A rhythm was established as Tim pounded in and out. He started shallow but soon enough his cock demanded more, so he did —deep and forceful thrusts that pulled such adorable noises from Damian. 

Eventually, he slowed down to a stable pace. He eyed Damian, whose flushed skin was so easy on the eyes. He was squirming again. “M-master, please.”

“Please what?” 

“Please, please let me cum.” 

“Hmm,” Tim put on a considering look. “Well, don’t you think you should earn it?”

He stopped his thrusts. Damian looked confused before understanding dawned upon him as Tim took his place by the headboard, leaning back.

Damian crawled over to Tim’s laps, movement hindered by the panties still cuffing his knees together. Face red, he arranged the skirt around him before sinking himself down onto Tim’s cock.

Tim barely held back his groan. 

Damian slowly lifted himself up until only the head of Tim’s cock was in before slamming himself back down. With the momentum, he bounced himself up and down the cock, wide emerald eyes beseeching. 

He leaned towards Tim, kissing his necks and jaws and nuzzling them in a show of affection that never failed to melt Tim down. “Master, please, can I cum now?”

Tim lifted Damian’s skirt. His cock was leaking, almost seemingly painful.

“Master.”

“Okay.”

Damian let out a strangled sound, toes curling before he came, the fluid staining the costume.

Tim instantaneously flipped their position, thrusting in and out more forcefully than he did initially. It was not long before he came too, releasing his seed deep inside Damian.

“Happy birthday, Timothy.”

Tim smirked. “What? No master?”

“You can wait until next year.”

Tim laughed. “I have a better idea. How second round in the bathroom sounds to you?”  
  
Damian pulled him down for a kiss. “Acceptable.”

Tim made a mental note to grab the camera for the second round.

**Author's Note:**

> https://mobile.twitter.com/seisu2_2  
> Damian stan? Follow me on twitter @seisu2_2
> 
> Kudos and comments are loved and appreciated. Thank you🥺


End file.
